


In the Wake of Cape Town

by cecilkirk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Split, Ryden, angst if you squint, vices era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shame wasn't enough to separate them; or, the end of cursing everyone and everything (even the sun).</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wake of Cape Town

It was two-thirty when Brendon returned home.

Ryan had not slept at all prior.

There wasn't any reason he'd needed to stay up. He knew Brendon would be home late, and, ultimately, he knew Brendon would be coming home. He could have fallen asleep, then waited for him to come home and crawl into bed. That would have been a great way to wake up. Ryan grins at this, stifling a yawn. He hadn't been able to wind down. He had been too excited.

This had been the first tour Brendon had been on after they got back together, the longest the two had ever been separated since...since ever, really. Touring used to be a point of unity, togetherness.

He had ended that, and he knew it.

But now, even though some scars had formed on both their skin, things had gotten better. Not perfect--probably never could be--but it was something. And it was something that the friendship formed somehow blossomed almost instantaneously into explicit romance. Ryan thinks it may have been a matter of released frustration, that after years of hiding it, they were unafraid to let others see it now. With a film of hope over that thought, Ryan thinks maybe they deserved it as reward for their hardship. They had, after all, exhumed and reanimated what they had. Now, it was better than ever.

Ryan tried not to think about the tour. He knew very well what songs Brendon was singing on tour. The first time he listened to  _Vices_ his face had burned, his stomach soured. He felt immensely guilty for causing all this bitterness. And yet, the remembrance of his own product of their separation sobered him. 

He tried not to think about it, but after staying awake nearly all night, he thought about it more than he should have.

Ryan sits on the living room couch, staring at the front door. 

Brendon had insisted he would get a cab home from the airport, which upset Ryan. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it was there, errant and peripheral in his thoughts like...film. He frowns at this, the duality of it all. Sometimes he wishes things between them had never been uncomfortable and awkward and difficult.

But then, maybe they wouldn't be here.

He accepts this with bated gratitude.

And even though he continues to push the thought away, it comes back:  _He's singing about how much he hates you._

It was true. Ryan knows now it's part of the tour, what the fans want, even if it's not entirely representative of how Brendon feels anymore. He cannot accept that Brendon hasn't completely strayed from those thoughts wholly; he cannot believe some residual bitterness exists in him. 

Then again, Ryan cannot say he has moved on completely, either. It was a journey for both of them.

In the quiet and isolation of his thoughts, Ryan is glad they are traveling it together.

He wishes he could blame his insomnia on excitement for Brendon's return. It is part of the reason--it always will be now, whenever they separate again--but fear is still there. There is the potential he could have miscalculated and misread everything. Somehow, somehow, his hopes could have climbed further than his logic. He could be horribly mistaken. 

He could lose him.

Ryan tried to wave the thought away. His leg shook nonetheless.

By the time Brendon finally came through the front door, Ryan couldn't bring himself to smile right away.

But Brendon beamed.

He dropped his bags at the door and walked over to where Ryan was sitting, taking his hands, pulling him to his feet, and hugging him like he may never get to do so again. Ryan could feel the desperation where Brendon's cheek met his, where his fingers grasped at his shirt, where muttered, choked-up promises slipped past his lips into Ryan's ears. This, the affirmation of his wishes and the knowledge they were reciprocated in full, was enough to put him over the edge.

He smiled, and hugged Brendon back.

After a moment Brendon pulled back, kissing Ryan softly, slowly, like this was a rare opportunity. Ryan realized both of them would have to unlearn the taut anxiety of secrecy. Normal love would take some getting used to.

"I missed you," Brendon whispered, stroking Ryan's hair and grinning through tears. "I really, really missed you."

The gravity of his words suggests a timeline longer than two months. Ryan's cheeks begin to burn with Brendon's unadulterated flood of affection.

"I missed you too," Ryan says. Brendon grins wider, and one errant tear drips down his cheek.

At the sight of this, something between Ryan's ribs aches with the newfound freedom of something removed. He pulls Brendon in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing kisses into his cheek. 

"I missed you too, babe," Ryan mutters into his skin. Brendon's fingers slide under the hem of Ryan's shirt, pressing dots of heat into his lower back. Desperate for warmth, desperate for unity. Ryan sees an opportunity; he takes it without hesitation.

"I missed your skin," he says. He can hear Brendon laugh, caught in his throat with tears but happy nonetheless. He can feel Brendon grin against his cheek, arms tightening around his waist. And as they say nothing for minutes, bathed in midnight energy and the hum of redamancy, Ryan feels all of the thoughts he struggled to wave away disappear completely. Nothing obstructs him anymore. He knows what he feels is absolute, real, and valid. He knows he'd been wrong about this, but now--now, he realized, he could never be more right.


End file.
